


One Hundred Tours (And Still Counting)

by marmota_b



Series: Painkiller [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Punisher (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types, Young Avengers
Genre: (but men being awesome too), Adoption, Alternate Universe, Artist Steve Rogers, Character Study, Code-switching (Sociolinguistics), Czech Character(s), Dorks, Dubious timelines, Family, Friendship, Gen, Guns, Italian Character(s), Loki Redemption, Military Ranks, Native American Character(s), Original Character(s), Redemption, Sewing, Spiritual, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Superpowers aren’t always helpful in combat, Team Dynamics, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 12,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2574074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmota_b/pseuds/marmota_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an alternate universe where some things went a bit differently and some went a good deal differently. It doesn't mean nobody dies. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt (it actually often hurts a lot more). But it means he's not alone.<br/>Frank Castle's found a new family, as weird as it is, and friends; and a new duty.<br/>The Avengers may be a team of superheroes; but they're also a bunch of dorks.</p><p>A series of short pieces, based on a 100 words list. Theoretically drabbles, in practice rarely but usually still maintaining a word count of some sort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1a. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, I don't own the Punisher, and neither do I own the Highlander universe, as little as there is of it in here. I only write this for fun and as a writing exercise.
> 
> Also, the sentence about the Avengers in the summary is a paraphrase of what cephalopodcat said about the Howling Commandos in response to a comment of mine.
> 
> This is primarily an Avengers story. It starts off more or less MCU, even has bits of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. in it, but it really diverts after The Avengers, so the glimpses of Coulson's team in this are AU, too. And it gets large chunks from the comics as well, obviously. Including other teams.  
> My mind universes tend to bleed into one another, which is why there's also the Highlander character(s) and... things.
> 
> It is based in an alternative storyline that developed in my head when I started wondering about the way some comic book characters are simply doomed to repeat the same behaviour over and over. I'm not really a _fan_ of the Punisher, so if you're a die-hard Punisher fan, this story is definitely not for you. If, like me, you wonder what Frank Castle could be if he were _not_ the Punisher, this might be that story.  
>  Or, rather, part of that story; there are actually background stories to this that I have not managed to bring to their full potential yet. And because the whole premise is rather outrageous, I'm testing the waters with this one.  
> So it is, essentially, a "fix it" story, except that it hopefully doesn't fix _everything_ into a rose-coloured AU? There _will_ be fluff. Some of it will be gun fluff, though, because it still is Frank Castle.
> 
> (Loki worms his way in halfway through and refuses to leave, dragging other characters in with him.)
> 
> It's a series of short pieces based on a 100 word list that I found in someone's journal at deviantART. I don't remember anymore whose list it was, which bothers me, because it's been very helpful. So many thanks to that person, too.  
> EDIT 11/1/15: It was QueenPetra: http://queenpetra.deviantart.com/art/100-Word-Challenge-List-146992265  
> Quite a number of those words will be out of the original order of the list, though, because I want to organise this story chronologically and some prompts simply did not fit in the place they were originally in.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Castle isn’t the Punisher anymore, Frank Castle is Painkiller, Phil Coulson lives, superpowers aren’t always helpful in combat, Steve Rogers and Frank Castle are friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote two pieces for the first word, "Introduction", because first I wrote one about an encounter, which I liked, but the whole premise needed an introduction, too.

**1a. Introduction**

 

Captain Castle had been on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s profiling list for a year and a half, Agent May informed him.

The question, then, was how did he manage not to move up the list?

“We had bigger fish to fry,” May shrugged. That much was probably true: it had been a crazy three or so years for S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Someone good was covering his tracks,” Skye said with a great deal of admiration. “I can back-track it now that I know, but I still don’t know how they did it...”

Coulson looked at her in surprise.

“I’ll figure it out,” Skye added confidently. “But it isn’t the crude hacking I run across most often.”

That, of course, explained a lot about the way Castle had managed to avoid suspicion. Managed to conduct all that the Punisher had done without connecting his name to it. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s profilers had only been alerted, May told him, when the Saracen and some other people were killed in Sicily and Frank Castle travelled under his own name from Palermo to Prague. With the amount of tourists travelling to Europe’s old cities each year, it would have been difficult to pick anyone out, but Castle’s name had jumped out because there was no record of him travelling _to_ Sicily.

A little mistake, but enough to draw their attention.

“But it still doesn’t quite add up,” May said. “The Saracen was beheaded.”

“Oh,” Coulson said and did not elaborate.

So that had been a year and a half before, and maybe Coulson would have been the one to consider Castle, had he not been playing dead at the time. During that year and a half, many things had changed. He’d stopped playing dead. Castle had had some run-ins with Captain America in which, Coulson was now quite certain, Captain Rogers had somehow surmised the Punisher’s identity – and kept it to himself. Then they’d both gone and involved themselves in the whole Medisuela / D.E.A. debacle; it had apparently started out as a feud and ended with them working together like best of friends. And now, another six months later, Castle was here with S.H.I.E.L.D., claiming to have had some sort of religious experience and to have gained a new superpower that wasn’t particularly useful in combat. Captain Rogers testified to both.

That was Agent Coulson’s gist of things, anyway.

Phil’s view of things was a little broader. He’d only talked about it with Steve, briefly; he was sure he would go speak with Frank himself eventually, but Nick Fury would not let Phil in until Castle’s state of mind had been evaluated by a psychologist.

Not that Frank could do him much harm now, even if he wanted to; but it _was_ better to stand on protocol in a space as public as the Helicarrier was.

Most people were shaking their heads at it all, both Frank’s _conversion_ and his power. It wasn’t very super, Ward said, to be able to _hurt himself_. There had been a mutagen, Simmons explained, excited by the idea of a substance that latched onto one’s mental state like that, but completely puzzled by Frank’s choice – “It’s admirable, but quite impractical, isn’t it?” Sheesh, Fitz said, he was drowning in the stuff, you can’t think clearly when you’re drowning.

All of that was true. But Phil was still convinced that it wasn’t the full picture and that Rogers and Castle did have a point. There were not many things that could convince a man like Frank Castle to turn himself in.

Not things of this world, anyway. But what if that wasn’t all there was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 600 w.
> 
> Referred to here: an arc from The Punisher War Journal in which Frank went to Sicily, met his remaining family and had a run-in with the Saracen; the three-part story "Blood and Glory" in which the Punisher (eventually) cooperated with Captain America on a case of shady international political intrigue and stuff. It's one of those rare moments where you can take off on a "Frank Castle redeemed" story if you wish to. In this premise of mine, I reworked those stories to take him on that journey.
> 
> Oh, and Ward's grasp on what exactly Frank Castle does with his power is a leeettle off.


	2. 1b. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Castle meets with a psychologist.

**1b. Introduction**

 

Mariah took a deep breath and opened the door.

The Punisher was a strange mixture of intimidating and unassuming. He was sitting at the table, so she could not tell exactly how tall he was, but he was certainly taller than her, even with her heels taken into account. (She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologist, so of course she could take down people taller and stronger than herself, if necessary; but he was not only taller and stronger, he was also far more skilled.) He was dressed all in black and his face had that certain blank look typical for hardened warriors.

But the black of his clothes was not a deep, impenetrable black, more of a grayish hue, just like there were little hints of gray in his dark hair at the temples. His jeans had slightly frayed hems, rubbed off just enough to reveal the whiteness of the weft threads and send off a worn-in impression.

“Hello,” she said, biting the bullet with a small, non-threatening smile. “I’m Mariah Goodman.”

“Frank Castle,” he said, returning the smile with a slight, nervous quirk of his mouth, and she realised this was a good start. He gave them both equal footing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.
> 
> Mariah is an original character of mine created for this AU. I'm not sure if she appears again here, but I'm rather fond of her.


	3. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Castle joins the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t particularly like this one and the following one. They’re rather disconnected from the rest (and each other). But they address a few of the issues that would no doubt come up.

**2\. Poison**

 

Steve and Frank going to a party on Painkiller’s first Avengers mission felt like a bad joke. It wasn’t that they were suspicious of them at first; the party was welcoming. But that was where their suitability ended.

“What’s your poison?” one of the people there asked them casually and they both froze just a little bit.

“Oh, whatever,” Steve grinned widely after a few moments, saving face for now.

“Bad idea,” Frank murmured from behind him, not for the first and not for the last time that night.

“What’s his problem?!”

“Abstinence,” Steve replied, which was where trouble started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> In this case, the issue is Frank’s dismal social life and his abstinence – at least in some sources, he doesn’t drink alcohol and takes no drugs, and that is the version of him I picked.


	4. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Castle defers to Captain Rogers.

**3\. Abandoned**

 

It was a very close call, but Frank managed to pull Steve out just in time.

“There should be Avengers rules on going into abandoned buildings,” Frank panted.

“There are no Avengers rules on anything,” Steve replied.

“There should be Avengers rules,” Frank said, shining his torchlight into the still rumbling shadows. “How do you keep command without them?”

“There are no particular Avengers rules, just S.H.I.E.L.D. rules,” Steve amended. “The stuff you’ve heard.”

“I’ve heard nothing about going into abandoned buildings,” Frank said.

“You’ve noticed the collapsing wall anyway,” Steve noted.

“Experience,” Frank retorted.

“Write it down.”

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> Rather disconnected pieces that I don’t particularly like but that however address important issues, take two.  
> a) Frank, just like Steve (and Carol and Rhodey) is / was an officer in the armed forces and would no doubt, in the beginning, clash with the more lax way the Avengers function,  
> b) Frank’s probably got more experience with urban decay than anyone else on the team.  
> And c) even then, he defers to Steve, because.


	5. Magnificent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers have an awkward command structure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of the shuffled prompt words.

**53\. Magnificent**

 

Castle clearly had trouble acclimatising to the command structure – or lack thereof – in the Avengers. He did not have trouble with her – a major was a major was more than a captain – but Carol could see him surreptitiously eyeing Rhodey whenever War Machine joined the roster for a mission. It reminded her of her own beginnings with the team.

She had been just as overwhelmed by the opportunity to _exist_ alongside Colonel Rhodes, if not more. Probably more, because Colonel Rhodes was from her own branch of the armed forces. She had kept being surprised by the fact that he obeyed Captain Rogers’ orders and did not give orders of his own. And she had kept calling him “sir”.

Finally, he had given her a broad amused smile and told her:

“That’s Rhodey to you.”

She had said “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 140 w.
> 
> This was one of those cases when you have an idea and force it on a prompt. But I think this word works very well for it.
> 
> If anything - like Carol's rank - disagrees with your opinions, remember this is an AU. Also, it's comics universes and things change and develop and sometimes contradict themselves. And yes, okay, I'm not really familiar with Carol Danvers in detail, or to tell the truth anything in the comics, so hey, good thing it's an AU.


	6. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Castle should not participate in Clint and Peter’s pranks while on parole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more in the background story. The one that hasn't been posted yet. Sorry.

**4\. Crisis**

 

Have I crossed the line too soon? This is a punishment. I am no good, I am not good at dealing with people...

I am no good. I’m a sinner, and no matter how I try...

Are you there? You’re not there, are you?

_Are you there?!_

They said it was a mutagen. That it was a psychic, conscious decision.

Just me being in pain. Just me deciding I had to help Steve.

But that’s not all that happened! Lord, have mercy. If I have to endure this, give me strength to endure.

Lord, I can’t do on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.


	7. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank dreams. Or not.

**5\. Dream**

 

Frank was not sure if it was a dream or another experience like he had had the time he had become Painkiller. It was not as obvious as that. It was not a bright blinding light, metaphorically speaking. But neither was it just a jumbled mess of memory and subconsciousness as his dreams usually were.

He woke up remembering. The particulars were slipping away from him already – he could not recall whether there had been a story to the dream or not. He could not recall whether there had been names or not, whether the people he had met in that dream – if it were a dream – were people he knew or just people he had known in the dream.

But there had been Someone who knew _him_. And the knowledge was not scary anymore. It was warm like an embrace and he still felt it.

Tears came falling out of his eyes, like they had come more times than he had cared to admit in the past weeks – months – but this time, they were not tears of lonely despair. Relief was washing over him, with a quiet resolution settling in him in its wake. He could do this. Not on his own. But he would not be alone.

“Thank you,” he said into the imperfect, buzzing quiet of the cell. “Thank you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 225 w.


	8. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is enjoying the season.

**24\. Autumn**

 

Frank had not realised just how dependent he was upon the outside world until he had emerged again.

It had been nearly six months in solitary. With regular trips out during missions, true; but he had spent _months_ alone in what was essentially a metal box. No wonder he had been going crazy. Even in his Punisher days, when he had been a complete recluse from society, he had at least been going out regularly, in touch with the weather and seasons.

Now, when he saw the leaves turning while the last time he had been out – not counting that recent night-trip to Prague –, flowers had been in bloom and the leaves all green – he realised just how messed up it had really left him and how it had truly turned his life upside down.

He was doing things now he would not have considered doing six months before. Not even after he had more or less officially joined the Avengers would he have simply gone with them to one of Tony Stark’s holiday houses for a weekend; it would have felt frivolous and – well, he could admit it now: he would have felt vulnerable.

It was Indian summer: growing cold during the nights, but still bright and sunny and warm during the day. It was a great time for a vacation in a lake-house. Even if said lake-house was much more luxurious than he was used to.

He kicked up a small pile of first fallen leaves and let them float down to the ground around him again, relishing the sight and touch.

It was, perhaps, childish. But it was real. And frankly, he did not need to put up a face anymore, not even to himself.

He still felt vulnerable, but it was okay. They all were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 w.
> 
> To clear it up, those regular trips out were relatively frequent. Because you would not be an Avenger if trouble did not come knocking on your door often. But, you know, solitary. In a metal box. No guests allowed. No windows. Even with books it still eats on your brain.


	9. Shooting Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor still doesn’t understand some Midgardian phenomena; Tony is clueless and Pepper stops him (as usual).

**6\. Shooting Star(s)**

 

“Quick, wish for something!” Clint said. As he had Natasha’s arm hooked in his, he spoke to her only; but others looked up as well.

“You wish upon shooting stars?” Thor asked with surprise; even though he had been part of the Midgardian society for some time, he was still coming across phenomena he had not encountered before and concepts he did not understand. It should not be such a surprise. “What is the significance of that?”

No one could tell exactly.

“They are, of course, just meteorites,” Tony said instead.

“And it was just a mutagen,” Painkiller murmured from his place on the floor of the terrace, looking up with his arms folded under his head.

“No one’s saying that,” Janet said.

“Of course there are people saying that,” Frank retorted.

“Well, I suppose... it’s a mutagen that made it possible for you to reflect...” Tony began before Pepper shut his mouth with her hand.

“There are more things between Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy,” she said firmly and Frank burst out laughing.

It was still an uncommon occasion. Thor liked the sound of Frank’s laughter. It was rare, but it was always genuine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.


	10. Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor goes for a swim.

**7\. Mist**

 

There was rain during the night and when Thor woke up, quite early the next morning, mist was rising from the lake and the hills around.

He walked down to the jetty, with the thought to take a swim in the lake, but stopped further up on the shore when he noticed another lonely figure already standing there. It was Frank. Thor was not sure if he should disturb the man; maybe he wanted to be alone.

But Frank turned and smiled at him amiably, with a “good morning.”

“I thought to swim,” Thor said.

“So did I,” Frank replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.


	11. Hopeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank’s towel is pathetic.

**8\. Hopeless**

 

When they swam back to shore – both suddenly cold as they drew themselves up on the jetty, but invigorated by the swim and competitive company – they were met by Peter, who handed them two large towels.

“Thank you,” Thor said. “We did not think of that.”

“I did,” Frank inserted.

“Your towel is pathetic,” Peter said. “Tony’s got much better towels.”

“Tony’s got more money to spend on them.”

“He’s hopelessly rich,” Peter agreed. “But there’s no reason not to make use of it when he lets us.”

Frank smiled, took the towels and threw one of them at Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> A very loose interpretation of the prompt, I admit.


	12. Dreamcatcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet knows a thing or two, Tony is clueless again. There’s a talk of ancestry and instructors.

**10\. Dreamcatcher**

 

Janet was eyeing it from half-closed eyes, swirling the wine glass in her hand ever so slightly.

“You like it?” Tony asked. “I think mom brought it from somewhere.”

“I’m not sure I like it,” she said. “I think it’s cultural appropriation.”

“And that’s bad?” Tony asked.

“For a well-educated certified genius, you can be very clueless sometimes,” Janet sighed.

“Is it bad?” Tony rephrased his question, now genuinely worried.

“Well, you don’t go around claiming a Cherokee princess among your ancestors; it could definitely be worse,” Rhodey said.

“I thought you had...?” Pepper started.

“Not Cherokee and not a princess,” Rhodey smirked.

“You’ve got Indian ancestors?” Steve asked with surprise.

“Native American,” Pepper mouthed at him and Steve slapped his hand over his face in embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” Rhodey smiled.

“It’s not okay; I should know better by now,” Steve said. “I can’t even use the drink as an excuse.”

“Well, I won’t tell on you,” Rhodey said. “And I think you can get away with it in conversation; after all, there are still terms like ‘Indian country’ in perfectly correct use.”

“I’ve only met some Native Americans in the war, very briefly,” Steve said. “Navajo, I think.”

“I had a Navajo training instructor,” Frank said from the other end of the room where he had been conversing with Thor and Peter.

“Was he a code talker?” Peter asked curiously. Frank snorted.

“No, a recon Marine. One of the best, too. Without him, I wouldn’t have lasted half as long as I did.”

Tony raised his glass of bourbon in a toast.

“To recon Marines, code talkers and ancestors,” he said solemnly.

“I can drink to that,” Frank said.

“I think we all can,” Steve stood up, raising his glass. “To those thanks to whom we are here today.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 w.
> 
> Indebted to the blog Native Appropriations and the rabbit holes it’s taken me to. There’s a difficult balance to maintain and maybe I’ve still failed, but I had to try.  
> There’s a tidbit in Frank’s biography about him learning bushcraft from a Native person, some such. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but with the usual depictions of Native Americans in Marvel material, it plays right into all the stereotypes that blog and its rabbit holes rail against. While the rabbit holes that Frank’s Marine-ness has taken me to also involve the existence of recon Marines, which, if I remember correctly, was part of Frank’s training, and I thought that was a very nice way to reconcile the canon with my headcanon here.  
> I’m not sure why Rhodey ended up having Native ancestors, and why Rhodey of all people. It just happened.
> 
> Dubious timelines: Just what war had Frank been in? Had it been the Vietnam War we know from our world, maybe a code talker instructor would not have been such a stretch? But it’s definitely more complicated than that here.


	13. Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Steve consider a living arrangement.

**33\. Empty**

 

Steve was worryingly quiet as he slowly criss-crossed the apartment’s floor, carefully avoiding certain spots.

“Say something, Dead Man,” Frank growled in the end.

“You have a disturbing habit of accumulating empty living spaces that become covered in dust and cobwebs, Young Man,” Steve said in the end, eyeing the grey-coloured glass of the skylight dubiously.

“Take it, or leave it,” Frank said.

“You’ve clearly mostly left it,” Steve would not let go just yet.

“The landlady is such a nice little old lady that I did not feel like really setting up base here,” Frank admitted. “You know, dragging her into my troubles felt wrong.”

Steve burst out laughing.

“Take it. Definitely take it. A landlady who puts the fear of God into you is a thing to cherish.”

Frank gave him a Look, hardly appeased in his frustration.

“A cheap shared Brooklyn flat with a skylight is a thing to cherish, too,” Steve admitted. “Thanks for wanting to be my roommate, Frank,” he added, switching into his Good Boy persona so smoothly that Frank began suspecting the landlady was somehow related to him.

“I don’t fancy spending the rest of my life in S.H.I.E.L.D. apartments, either,” Frank smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.


	14. Illogical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank Castle and Steve Rogers are roommates. Sam Wilson lives next door. Army and Marines don’t get on.

**49\. Illogical**

 

“It helps to have a roommate; I don’t think I could afford this otherwise,” Steve said, passing another bucket of water to Sam. “Brooklyn studio apartment for a beginning comic book artist? Forget it.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam replied. “Brooklyn Heights apartment for a social worker? Forget it. Although this is still a lot of work you’ve got cut out for yourselves here.”

“Well, it helps to have helpful neighbours, too,” Steve smiled. “Thank you so much.”

“You’ve already thanked us.”

“I just can’t help thinking it’s a little small for two people _and_ a studio,” Neil inserted thoughtfully. “I mean – well, it’s just one room.”

“A big one,” Frank said.

Steve pointed a thumb at himself.

“Army,” he said, and then, hooking the thumb at Frank, he added: “Marine. We don’t mind.”

“Pardon me for asking, but I’ve always been under the impression that Marines and Army don’t get on,” Neil said.

“We don’t,” Frank said.

Steve burst out laughing.

“It’s a case of ‘start out trying to kill each other, end up as best friends’,” he said.

Frank smirked at the thinly veiled reference to their past encounters. Sam and Neil laughed, imagining something far less literal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.


	15. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank considers helping Sam out in his work with troubled youth, but that means facing his own darkness.

**17\. Darkness**

 

Frank’s voice drifted to him through the emptiness of the room:

“Should I do it?”

Steve knew immediately what he was referring to.

“Go for it,” he said. “At the risk of sounding clichéd, you owe it to yourself.”

Frank was quiet.

Just to be sure, Steve added:

“And don’t try denying it. You’ve already done enough of that for a lifetime.”

If he had, with a corner of his mind, hoped to make Frank snort (he could not hope for more), he failed. Frank’s heavy silence dragged on.

“Sam was right,” he said in the end, quietly, almost as if he were afraid of what he was saying. “About their lives not being much better than war. What if I snap?”

“Frank, you’ll always run that risk, no matter what you do. Everyone does. You’d run it even if you stayed in that cell.”

Frank’s reply was a soft, bitter chuckle.

“You _saw me_ ,” Steve added.

Of course, he had actually snapped out of his rage at Attorney General Mollech on his own by the time Frank had seen him; but barely. And if the memory of that moment and what he had told Steve could give Frank something – something to hold on to, some sort of reassurance that he was not alone – then Steve was fine with having his honour tainted with it.

Frank was, once again, quiet for a while.

“Do they know?” he asked then, carefully, almost shyly.

Steve smiled into the darkness. It was working.

“No,” he said. “They still don’t know much of what happened between us.”

He’d told the Avengers the gist of the Medisuelan case, of course, but he still had not told them much about Frank, aside from the fact that he’d gone with him, thick and thin, fire and water, and done what was right. Somehow he had felt that Frank had a right to the privacy he so closely kept. Somehow he’d felt that Frank letting him in was huge, and could not bring himself to break that confidence. Maybe it had been wrong; maybe if he’d told them more, Frank’s transition would have been easier and the situation with his solitary confinement and Adam’s inquiry would not have escalated so badly because someone else would have thought of Frank’s Czech contact being left in the dark. But this was the truth as it had happened: he had not told them much.

“Medisuela or later?”

“Not much of either, actually. You heard what I told them.”

“Will you tell them?”

Would Frank want him to?

“Eventually, maybe. I don’t know. I suppose you could tell them about it. It could even be better if you told them.”

“No,” Frank said. “They wouldn’t take it from me.”

“You don’t know that. You’re an Avenger now, and you’ve been with us through a lot. We already stuck together after less. Anyway, if the situation calls for it, you have my permission to tell them.”

“What situation?”

“You’ll know if it comes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 w.
> 
> This was actually lifted from one of those expanded background stories. It felt like something I really should address right here.


	16. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Parker is camera-happy.

**9\. Obsession**

 

For someone with a mostly-hate relationship with their editor, Peter Parker sure did take many pictures of injured Painkiller for his newspaper.

“Will you stop it?” Frank snapped at him. In answer, Peter took another picture.

“Can I kill him?” Frank turned to Steve tiredly.

“No,” Steve said.

“Can I throw a blanket on him?”

“No,” Steve said. “Why would you throw a blanket on him?”

“It’s that Czech joke,” Frank said. “‘Throw a blanket on him or I’ll kill him.’ Okay, it works better when a parrot is involved. I am sure I’ve already mentioned it, and found out I wasn’t able to explain.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I can call Adam and ask what it’s all about,” Steve replied. “Are we good to go?”

“I hope so,” Frank said. “If we stay here, he’ll keep taking photos and I’ll kill him, blanket or no blanket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150 w.
> 
> It comes from a Czech play by Messrs Smoljak and Svěrák – I’ll skip the details – where there’s a mix-up of a person and a parrot and the words “Throw a blanket on him or I’ll kill him,” are uttered, to comical effect. Yes, it sounds completely bonkers when recounted, and yes, that’s part of the point here. No one ever said Frank Castle was good with jokes, but no one ever said he should not try.


	17. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank enters a diner. Despite everything, Joan loves her work.

**20\. Dawn**

 

Joan tried to pull up the shutter door, and failed as one of her hands automatically shot up to block an oncoming yawn. Before the yawn was finished, Frank had already gripped the bottom of the shutter firmly and pulled it up in one smooth, swift one-handed motion with little help from her.

“You’d think I’d have known better than to continue doing the exact. same. job,” Joan said self-deprecatingly, untangling her keys.

All he said was “You’d think I’d be wiser than to enter that workforce, all things considering.”

She added ‘doesn’t have any illusions about running a restaurant’ to her mental list of things she liked about Frank.

Finally, she managed to insert the correct key into the keyhole and turn it; the door opened to darkness.

She flipped the switch as she entered. Frank nearly ran into her, because she still could not get enough of this bright, clean interior she and Dave had created and stopped in her tracks as the lights went on.

“I think it’s because despite everything, I love this,” she said happily. “I don’t know about you, though. Oh, could you please pull up the window shutters as well?” She tossed the keys at him.

He obliged her, caught the keys expertly and went out, while she opened the fridge to make sure they had everything they would need for the day. The light of the dawn poured in, washing everything in more orange.

“Bumpo’s late today,” she remarked as Frank came back in. “Usually, he’s first in the kitchen.”

“And Dave?” Frank asked.

“Comes right before we open. He usually leaves last, you know, counting everything.”

“So how exactly do I fit in again?” Frank asked, shrugging off his peacoat.

“Behind the counter over there,” Joan pointed at the new coffee machine. “And – oh. Busy night?”

Frank swore quietly; it was, Joan guessed, Italian or Sicilian.

“Sorry. I can run across the street and grab a new tee -”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Joan laughed and handed him one of their signature orange aprons. “That should cover it.”

Frank hung his Navy coat next to her green trench and put the apron on rather gingerly.

Her idea proved correct. The whiteness of the skull was completely covered by the apron; all that stood before her now was a Sicilian barista dressed in black.

“You’ll fit in just fine,” she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 w.
> 
> Joan, Bumpo and Dave are lifted from the 2004 Punisher film (which lifted them from a comics, but I went with their film versions here). Let’s ignore the Florida setting and most of the plot; it ends with Frank leaving them lots of money to start a new life. In this AU, that still happened and they used the money to start a restaurant / diner together.
> 
> And in his attempt to start a new life now, Frank becomes a barista at Bumpo’s. (An occasional barista. Who runs away to Avengers missions every now and then.)
> 
> That peacoat is not a Marine thing, I think (I don’t think Marines get them). Just a Frank thing.


	18. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad poetry and running jokes. Aunt May is being maternal.

**11\. Rose(s)**

 

“Your hair is red, your eyes are blue...” Peter murmured under his breath, searching for an appropriate way to finish the rhyme as pertaining to a certain feisty, bright-eyed young lady from next door.

“Either you’re dead, or I’m throwing a blanket on you,” Frank solved his dilemma for him. “That’s the stupidest, dorkiest rhyme you could ever possibly use.”

Getting a lift home from an older man on his bike seemed equally lame to Peter’s college sensibilities, but Frank laughed it off and was right again. Both Aunt May and Mary-Jane took Peter’s new barista friend in a stride, especially because Peter was home earlier thanks to his help and especially after Frank had also said “happy birthday” to MJ and then let Aunt May talk him into having dinner with them, taking the brunt of her hospitality and leaving Peter and MJ free in each other’s company. The only problem was Aunt May’s worry about motorbikes in the streets of New York City and that was appeased by Frank’s insistence on wearing the helmet.

For a certified loner, he knows a lot about women, Peter thought. Then he remembered Frank’s dead family and wished for mind bleach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w. (Actually, Word counts Mary-Jane as one word, but I don’t.)
> 
> Basically, the running joke is that Frank tried to tell the joke and failed, but variations of the sentence were still taken up as Avengers-speak for “shut up”. I think secretly, Natasha knows exactly what it’s all about.


	19. Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and May have things in common.

**12\. Clouds**

 

“Sometimes, all I can do is watch the clouds and wait,” May said.

Frank gave something between a sigh, a snort and a sob in response.

How do these things come about? May wondered. She rarely spoke of Ben, even with Peter. Hers was a quiet sort of sorrow. She had not realised she had needed to talk about it until she had innocently asked Frank about his wife – he did wear a ring – and he had blurted out, in a voice far more pained than his previous competence, that she was dead. Killed, a gunned down innocent bystander.

He was still young – still closer to Peter’s age than hers. Now she understood why he and Peter had become friends. He was both the father and the older brother Peter had never had.

They clutched their cups of tea, each of them looking down into the depths of theirs and then looking up out the windows, avoiding each other’s eyes for fear of seeing their own sorrow in them. Outside, white clouds were running across the blue, blue skies. The voices of Peter and Mary-Jane wafted vaguely in from the next room, gentle reminders of the life going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w. (Ditto for Mary-Jane)
> 
> Because they do.


	20. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And some things they don’t have in common.

**13\. Revenge**

 

She got up and carved out more of the turkey, waving away Frank’s offers of help. Later, she realised he may miss performing that particular service, perhaps without realising it, just like she had had to take it up more often after Ben’s passing.

They exchanged experiences, freely and without pressure or hurry. They were far from a nice dinner talk subject, but it was relieving. Tears fell without shame. Maria’s, Frankie’s and Lisa’s blood on his face. Ben’s pale, motionless body in the morgue.

“I was worried about Peter for a while,” May told him. “He was – as if bent on revenge, I think.”

“I can understand that,” Frank said in a dark, tight voice.

“I suppose that’s a natural reaction for someone... someone who’d actually seen it happen,” May said. “For me – it was just a numbness. I could not believe it had happened... Sometimes, I still don’t...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150 w.
> 
> I don't know what the "natural" reaction would be. But in the context of the story, that's how May views it.


	21. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And life goes on.

**14\. Insanity**

 

Hearing what exactly it was Aunt May and Frank were talking about should not have been a surprise, perhaps.

“Are they – are they really talking about...?” Mary-Jane asked with eyes wide and full of disbelief. “That’s _insane!_ ”

“I don’t know,” Peter said quietly. “I think – I think it’s more insane _not_ to talk about it.”

And then he smiled and added:

“Don’t worry, I won’t talk about it on your birthday.”

They slipped out into the garden, leaving May and Frank to their serious talk and giving way to a completely different kind of insanity, particular to young people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> Because it’s so personal it probably does sound crazy when you eavesdrop.


	22. Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet Van Dyne is a Sewasaurus Rex.

**15\. Disappear**

 

There was no doubt of it: Janet’s things were disappearing.

She suspected Frank at first, because it just about coincided with his presence in the tower. But it made no sense. What would he do with her fashion sketches?

She reconsidered the possibility that she was just messy when they turned up again, right where they had been. But that was it: they had been there, then _not_.

It finally made sense on her birthday when she opened the door of her room in the tower to the sight of a number of fabric bolts, in the colours and weights perfectly suited to her ideas, and a message scrawled across her sketchbook, with all the Avengers’ names signed under it.

(It was, of course, Pepper behind the choice of fabrics. Tony had tried to pay for it and the other Avengers had outvoted him: it was a communal effort. The thief had actually been Natasha. Frank had provided his van.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 160 w. (Couldn’t squeeze it all into 150.)
> 
> Janet is, canonically, a fashion designer. She designed the Avengers’ costumes. I don’t know how that is shown in the comics, but I suspect the creators didn’t know much about sewing and fashion designing and just hauled that duty on her because she was female.
> 
> Well, I love sewing. And I try and make my own patterns. So I can totally relate to a person who sews. And let me tell you, with all the body shapes present on the team, if she really made those costumes herself, made them to fit and survive the inevitable abuse, her fashion designing definitely goes way beyond making pretty sketches or fiddling with a sewing machine in the evenings.
> 
> (I believe the term Sewasaurus Rex was first coined by Oonaballoona, in a blog post discussing the various unsatisfactory names for passionate hobby seam- - sew- - well, you get the idea.)


	23. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank’s choice of weapon isn’t always obvious.

**16\. Shadow**

 

Natasha had shot CZ guns before. She had shot a number of CZ 75 versions before. The fact that she did not use one as her weapon of choice had more to do with spare parts availability in the USA than anything else. But the Shadow remained elusive; it was, after all, primarily a competition gun and Frank’s partiality to it in combat was rather puzzling. It was an excellent gun for its price range, but not exactly a duty gun. And she would not have slated him for using 9 mm Luger as his first choice of ammunition; all reports of the Punisher’s activities certainly suggested otherwise.

But the longer she observed Painkiller using it, the more she understood why he had settled on the Shadow as his go-to pistol. It may have been intended as a target-shooting gun, but it was also a gun intended for fast shooting, fast target reacquisition, a gun that served you well when you needed to shoot intuitively. And with the way they often ended up overwhelmed with large numbers, with the way he would have always been overwhelmed back when he had worked alone, that definitely made a great deal of difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.
> 
> The Shadow in question here is CZ 75 SP-01 Shadow, a recent CZ 75 version designed specifically after input from competition shooters. All I know about guns is internet based (except for very, very little recreational airsoft / pelet gun shooting). But what the internet knows about the Shadow suggests that the above could be true for Frank.


	24. Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Frank share part of their duty, but Thor thinks he could never do what Frank does.

**19\. Dusk**

 

Despite everyone’s attempts to change the status quo at every possible occasion, the two of them were often the last ones to stay behind with the victims, unless Bruce managed to un-Hulk inconspicuously to help out as well (which was exactly as likely to happen as it sounded). Providing what help they could long after the sunset if the _situation_ had happened during the day, or into the small hours of the morning if it had been at night.

Thor always inevitably ran out of bandages long before the need for them had stopped, and repeated medical advice like a broken record eventually. The victims and their dear ones would always listen to him dubiously at first, when he was actually still making sense, and then come to accept his expertise when his own confidence in his mental capacity began to wane.

Frank was always much worse off, though. Thor was the prince, the original Avenger who had helped save New York from an alien invasion, so they never really doubted his word. But long after the media had grown sated with Punisher’s change of heart, Painkiller was viewed with suspicion or downright derision by ordinary people in the streets. They always, always saw him shooting his guns before they saw him use his power, and because of his skill set and the team dynamics, he was usually the one shooting from a distance – “cowardly” – or sneaking up on the enemy – “deceitful”. The black clothes, the skull on his chest which he retained as a reminder and the headwrap he was still forced to wear to protect his identity did not help his case.

They never quite noticed the way Frank would swiftly direct the badly wounded to Thor or the medics and take care of the light cases himself, saving up everyone’s time with brief touches and a moment’s concentration.

And, of course, people did not know the half of the story behind Painkiller’s power that Thor knew. All they saw was a _murderer_ going around distributing unnatural relief from pain after a battle in which he had not been on the frontlines, so while they would accept his help in their hour of need, they would still turn their noses at him: superpowers did not a hero make.

What did make a hero, Thor thought as he supported Frank’s painful limp away into another dusk quickly closing in, was the willingness to provide relief even though it made your whole body ache every single time and you never got any relief yourself. The Painkiller would not take painkillers; in one moment of confidence, he had told Thor he doubted they would work on him, anyway.

“Are you all right?” Thor asked with worry as Frank let out a rare moan of pain. “Is that them or you?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Frank replied, leaning against a wall. “Probably all me by now.”

Thor could not read him properly with that scarf on, but he knew him well enough now to guess there was a lopsided smile underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 510 w.
> 
> Another long, serious issue that needed to be addressed. Because somehow in all the previous prompts, I have not managed to describe what Painkiller does properly.


	25. Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter doesn’t always like his lot in the Avengers, but the people make it worth it.

**21\. Quest**

 

When you’re a knight in a medieval epic, an adventurer in a fantasy book, an explorer in a space opera, you go on quests. To gain a lady’s hand in marriage, to obtain a rare relic, to boldly go where no man has gone before.

When you’re a masked Avenger, you go into dumps to wheedle information out of dirty people unwilling to talk.

“I’m not afraid,” the ratty man said stubbornly, though still staring at Painkiller’s be-skulled chest instead of his eyes. “You’ve gone soft. You won’t do anything to me.”

Frank slapped him so hard that he landed on Peter, who, in a panicked reaction he was not proud of, sent him reeling back to Frank with another hard strike.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Frank said, gripping the man by the collar. “I know exactly when to stop. He doesn’t.”

Peter did not like the implications, but he could work with that for now.

“And I’m stronger than I look,” he drawled out.

They emerged half an hour later with everything they needed to know, without having dealt another blow.

“Sorry about that,” Frank said. “You _would_ know.”

Maybe they were knights after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.
> 
> I think I’ve wanted to use the “I know exactly when to stop. He doesn’t,” argument ever since I came up with the idea for Painkiller’s “superpower”. Because when a man with Frank Castle’s reputation uses that, it does conjure up some very vivid ideas. And as Painkiller, he would not be lying.


	26. Thrilling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guarding a cemetery is a prestigious but boring job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is chronologically out of place, but I did not bother shuffling it around, because it comes even before the introduction; so, whatever.

**22\. Thrilling**

 

There were four types of visitors to Arlington: the old veterans, the young veterans, the families and friends, and the tourists. Sooner or later, each of the visitors fell into one of those four slots, and it was usually sooner rather than later.

Occasionally, there were also officials of some sort, but those were actually quite rare.

The two men who met in the Amphitheatre that one rainy afternoon did not fall into slots quite so neatly. One of them was fairly young; the other was slightly older, not quite old and not quite young. But the most striking fact was that one of them was a soldier and one of them was a Marine. They met out of the rain, talking peacefully, and then walked out of the cemetery together.

Maybe it was not right, but that was the reality: this was a momentous, once in a lifetime occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150 w.


	27. Teddy Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes through his sketchbooks.

**25\. Teddy Bear**

 

Some people kept diaries; Frank had a journal (he wrote it electronically, on computer or in his cell phone). Many people these days had blogs (the notion of a public private space like that had been one of the hardest ideas about the internet to get used to).

Steve had sketchbooks. They were stacking up; and that was without those he had kept before the war (those dirty, scrounged up notebooks and collections of scrap paper were in museums that would not give them up, and he did not ask). And now he was sitting on his bed and flipping though that collection of Steven Rogers Throughout the Years, and seeing something he had not realised before: progress.

His war drawings started out as quick doodles, often with a cartoony, caricaturist edge like that infamous costumed monkey (it still made him cringe). It was a simplification of his previous style, his emulations of Rockwell and others, and more than anything he had done before or after, it resembled Disney.

Later, with the Howlers, he had gone back to drawing from life, and this time with more actual life to it than models in a studio.

Then a breach. New sketchbook. Hatched buildings and achingly unfamiliar everyday objects, in an attempt to get acquainted with their shapes and textures; weird perspectives.

It had taken him months before he started drawing people again: the first from memory, a policewoman with a tight bun at the nape of her neck nursing a cup of coffee, an ex-Marine with an impenetrable and hard to duplicate face. Then a slew of pictures of the Avengers; after that, everything eased a little, but it was still a different style, using more sketchy, angular shading than before.

Somewhere around that time, sketches for professional work entered the picture, often using the shapes of his teammates for basis. He knew he had managed to make the final versions of those more thorough, but it had been just so-so. He must have gotten his first jobs purely because he had better grasp of anatomy than most beginner comic book artists these days and that had made him stand out.

But the more there had been of the demand, the better he had been; even the sketches were more rounded up now. And he had become better at drawing things not from life, not from memory, but from his own imagination. He had become better at purposefully alternating styles to suit the subject matter. He switched media: the majority of it was still pencil or crayons, but he also played with modern tools like markers.

Around the time of the whole Medisuelan trouble, there were many imaginative drawings with a surprisingly hard-edged quality to them. He had had some vivid dreams at the time.

And then another break. Suddenly, the pencil became softer yet more concrete, almost like John Howe (whom he admired greatly): at the foot of a smooth wall of dark stone a lonely teddy bear in rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 w.
> 
> As you can guess from the prompt word, this whole piece began with that final image. I’ve seen a small teddy bear at the foot of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, left there as a memento, and it remains one of my most persistent memories from the USA. It wasn’t in rain; but in my background story, Steve visits the place with Frank after their meeting in the Arlington cemetery (which is in the comics) and that took place in rain.
> 
> For getting to that image, I decided to go through Steve’s sketchbooks instead of re-visiting that meeting, and that’s where the rest of it comes from. If I remember correctly, Steve’s drawings in The First Avenger are much more rounded and softer shaded than his drawing in the deleted scene from The Avengers. So this became a look at his changing style and the possible reasons for it. (It doesn’t quite come across in the piece itself, but I think the first breach isn’t just the suspended animation and different time, but also Bucky’s death. There’s a background-story-in-works that touches on the policewoman and a certain ex-Marine in the battle of New York, so I’ll try to work it in there eventually.)
> 
> Also greatly indebted to the art-related bits in Ellidfics’ “Captain Fraudulent” series (which pointed me in the direction of the styles Steve would have been familiar with before the war).
> 
> After that whole progression, John Howe’s style simply struck me as a possible amalgamation of it all. :-)


	28. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank uses his Avengers card.

**28\. Rescue**

 

The second best part about having an Avengers card was that he could dive into the depth of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s armories and take his pick.

(The best part about having an Avengers card was, of course, being one of the Avengers.)

He avoided the outlandish stuff; he was not interested in the likes of Chitauri weapons (he had used one and not been impressed: it was way too wieldy for humans). What he came here to seek were the unusual but ordinary things: the forgotten blades from faraway countries, the guns that had been discontinued through no fault in the design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.


	29. Broken

**29\. Broken**

 

A string of (probably Italian) swearwords came from the direction of Frank’s workbench.

Steve had not kept up with what Frank was doing, immersed as he was in his own work. He did occasionally look up and quickly sketch that dark broad-shouldered figure, because Frank made excellent practice for comic books. But all the knowledge that afforded him was that Frank was working on a gun, and Steve would not have needed to look at his roommate to figure that much out.

“What?”

“I tried to make a steel rod for the 97 out of a door hinge. It broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> I wanted to introduce the 97 in the previous piece – “CZ 97, Česká zbrojovka’s .45 handgun, considered by some an excellent replacement for 1911s for a fraction of the cost of the better ones, and by others a wieldy brick not worth the money.” That’s one thing it could have said. But then when I checked the word count halfway through, it ended on the perfect count of 100 right at the end of a sentence. Do you know how often that happens? Practically never, that’s how often.
> 
> Gun guide rods made out of door hinges apparently are a thing. The steel 97 has a plastic rod, which seems to be an occasional point of derision in gun forums and similar places online.
> 
> And Frank’s a second-generation immigrant. That’s an established fact in the comics, yet the comics seem to almost completely ignore some of the interesting things it implies. Like the fact that Italian / Sicilian would probably still be his mother tongue. I don’t speak Sicilian, so I resort to the cheap solution of him swearing in it.


	30. Pillar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are various pillars of education...

**23\. Pillar**

 

Conversations in the Avengers Tower were meandering and unpredictable, although betting on Tony sooner or later taking it in the direction of his vast scientific knowledge was quite safe.

Avengers loved Jane’s visits, not in the least because she was one of the few people who could hand Stark’s ass to him in physics conversation. Bruce loved her visits most (second most after Thor, that is), because it lifted half the burden of maintaining conversation from him. He loved talking shop with Tony, of course, but Tony had a tendency to blather on long after Bruce’s endurance had given.

“... wait, I’ve always thought you’d studied at the pillar of American education...”

“No,” Jane said, with a sweet smile. “Berkeley.”

“Are you absolutely sure you have not...”

“I ought to know where I’ve studied,” Jane said, coldness creeping into her voice.

To Tony’s credit, he was not as insensible as to not notice and he redirected the conversation back to her research subjects.

Even after the years with Avengers now, the team held surprises. Part of it was the fact that the team was evolving, of course. Still, Frank giving his two cents during one of Jane’s talks, explaining something Tony did not understand, was a surprise to most. Except Jane.

“Do you have a PhD tucked in somewhere in your armory?” Tony asked him incredulously.

“No, she does,” Frank said. “More, I think?”

“Three,” Jane nodded. “Did you take astrophysics at the Academy?” she asked Frank.

“Yeah. Had vague ideas about the space before the very earthly war came in. Turns out I do better there.”

“Wait, what?” Tony said.

“Marine commissioned officers are required to have a college degree,” Jane informed him.

“Since when do you know so much about Marines?”

“Since you have one on the team?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300 w.
> 
> Another of those pieces forcing an idea on a prompt.
> 
> I keep being mean to Tony. I really should make it up to him somehow. It’s hard not to be mean to him, though, when he’s so hopelessly like that in conversations.
> 
> Jane’s alma mater is a wild guess (The University of California). The fact that Marine commissioned officers are required to have a college degree is a fact, but I do not know when it became one, so I have no idea if it should apply to Frank or not. Well, dubious timelines and AU, it does here. I like giving him more and more layers to balance out the very one-dimensional person Punisher often comes across as. And Jane strikes me as a person who would look things up about people; her curiosity is definitely not limited to the secrets of space.


	31. Snuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a mind-altering substance on the table.

**26\. Snuff**

 

Painkiller threw the bags of white powder on Simmons’ table and walked out of the lab again without a word and with a disgusted look on his face.

“Oh, but if our theories are correct, that’s far more exciting than cocaine or...” Jemma began, but Frank was long gone already.

“Same difference,” Natasha shrugged. “It’s a mind-altering substance and there are people using it for their own gain.”

“When you put it like that, it does sound just as horrible,” Jemma admitted.

“Because it is? We don’t get to poke into its scientific properties; we see what it does firsthand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.


	32. Prism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lachlan Blake is not paying attention in class.

**27\. Prism**

 

Loki had theories on how exactly the necklace worked, but they usually fell short before he came to the end of them.

The stones were prisms, refracting magic into... well, that particular metaphor fell apart very soon. You could still see refracted light; in fact, you could usually see it even better. He could not see magic. Any magic. The stones were black and blocked it off. (That was the only metaphor that worked so far and it was _lame_.)

He tried to freeze it in frustration, tapping into the side of himself he still hated; but the necklace defied even that.

He swore.

“Whoa, careful with that! Aren’t these things supposed to calm you or something?” one of his classmates asked. The stupid rock one who took his necklace to be a religious device of some sort.

“No, not this one,” Loki said indignantly.

“Quiet there, Lachlan,” Ms Monroe said calmly from the front of the classroom. “Can you tell me what the lesson is about?”

“Um... refracting light... prism,” Lockie said. The drawing on the board _was_ vaguely prism-like.

“History,” Maaya hissed at him.

“Maaya?” Ororo turned to her.

“Invention of concrete in ancient times?”

“Correct,” Ororo said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.
> 
> And Loki walks in. Earlier than I had thought, because there are some chronologically irrelevant prompts that are giving me trouble. Calculating back through my timeline, I think he actually entered the picture around the time of “the whole Medisuela / D.E.A. debacle”; but he did not enter into this particular story after that. In fact, this and the following Loki-centric vignettes are chronologically off inside this story (especially “Beautiful” should really happen even before this story begins, I think); but I did not want to disturb the flow of the main storyline, if I can call it that, for Loki.
> 
> I’m diving right into the “de-powered de-aged Loki” trope here. What I’m doing differently (I think) is placing him into the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, because even though he can’t access magic, he still has his ice powers and, in fact, without his magic there’s more risk of them coming to the fore (or at least people seem to think that). So he’s practically like a mutant kid on Midgard.
> 
> See what I did with his Midgardian name? I’m very proud of it. Thor’s Midgardian name is, of course, Donald Blake. Donald is a Scottish name, and so is Lachlan. It makes perfect sense!
> 
> I have no idea what Storm teaches at the school, but whatever, AU, history somehow made sense.


	33. Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people are not limited by them.

**30\. Wall(s)**

 

One of the first things Loki learned at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was that there was more to Midgardians than he had thought. It was, sometimes, very frustrating.

Like when a girl simply phased through a wall into the corridor, blithely ignoring the barriers he was now so pathetically limited by.

He must have been staring, because she grinned at him and said:

“I’m not a ghost. It’s just my mutant power, you see?”

Loki finally got a grip on himself and managed to say:

“It’s... cool.”

“Isn’t it? What’s yours?”

Loki was tempted to bitterly reply that his was nowhere near as cool, but then the irony of that hit him and he made a better decision.

“Mine’s cooler,” he said and froze the bottle of soda she was holding.

She dropped the bottle in shock first, but burst out laughing delightedly. Loki decided that it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150 w. 
> 
> That girl is, of course, Kitty Pryde.


	34. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there’s Shakespeare.

**31\. Beautiful**

 

“Logan tells me you have taken to Shakespeare after all,” the Professor said.

It’s about the only thing I have taken to so far, though, Loki thought bitterly.

“Oh, quite the contrary, I think you have adapted quite beautifully for someone with no experience in our society,” the Professor said with a smile.

I don’t even have to say anything, do I?

No, but I would prefer it to lead this conversation aloud.

“I did not expect to like it when you forced me to do it,” Loki admitted.

“I do not have much experience with Asgardian society, but I do have a feeling there are some points of concurrence,” Xavier replied.

Loki snorted.

“ _So was I when your highness took his dukedom;_ _So was I when your highness banish'd him:_ _Treason is not inherited, my lord;_ _Or, if we did derive it from our friends,_ _What's that to me? my father was no traitor_ _,_ ” he declaimed the first words that came to his mind. Just his luck that they were not those of his own character.

“Do you believe that?” the Professor asked, looking at him searchingly.

“Can I lie?” Loki shrugged. “I do not know. I do not know if I believe any of his words when I say them myself; but I know I can use what I know and put it in them and make others believe them.”

“That, I expect, is what all good actors do,” the Professor smiled.

“Then I shall do it also.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 250 w.
> 
> It's Rosalind in _As You Like It_ when the duke suddenly banishes her, claiming it's because of her father. It's a bit like Loki's situation on the surface, but in fact not at all.
> 
> (I have a background story for how Logan ended up leading a Shakespearean drama club at the school. It’s not too complicated. It involves subbing for someone and being surprisingly good at it, and the Professor pressuring him into doing more of it. I think the gist of the whole decision on my part was that Logan isn’t too unlike Thor in many respects, but without the baggage Loki’s relationship with Thor carries, so basically a fresh start. And he tends to be more insightful than he seems to be. So just like with Frank, I liked the opportunity of giving him more layers.)


	35. Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old associates are called upon

**32\. Tonight**

 

“And if we don’t stop it, the world ends tonight.”

Maybe those were not exactly the words, but the thought hung between them.

Maybe it wasn’t even technically true, but if you expanded it to “the world as we know it,” it was.

Maybe the world as they knew it was even diametrically different from what it had been two years ago, so why should they care...

Well, for one thing, if it blew up, Frank would lose his job, and so would Linus.

And wasn’t that a singularly selfish thought.

He massaged his temples.

“Frank, I think I’m losing it,” he said. “Can’t focus.”

Frank looked at him. There was an intensity to that look that was... scathingly unfamiliar.

Because Frank was actually _looking_ at him.

“I’ll make coffee,” Frank said finally and walked off to do just that.

“Frank, there’s no time...”

Because, at this moment, it was just the two of them and Stark’s blasted supercomputer, the rest of the Avengers abducted by the villain of the day. Frank’s coffee-making day job had saved him, but now there was no time for it.

“If you make a mistake because you can’t think clearly because you’re practically falling asleep standing, _time_ won’t help us,” Frank pointed out and yawned.

He was also barely standing on his feet. And to top it off, he had tended to some injured earlier that day.

“Tonight, I’m getting a large hot bath and a large bed,” Micro said and yawned as well.

“That’s the thought that’s keeping me walking,” Frank nodded.

Even if they succeeded, it was an unrealistic expectation: there would be a fall out. Reports to make. Things to explain to the public. Something. That was the thing with being an Avenger: at the end of the day, you could not just put your gun on your bedstand and let the newsfolk sort through the mess you’d left behind.

But they could play the game.

“You haven’t even got a bed,” Micro said. “I mean, that cotty thing you call a bed doesn’t count.”

“But it’s mine,” Frank yawned again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 350 w.
> 
> I'm still not entirely sure what Micro is doing in the meantime while Frank is Avenging and rommating with Steve. But I do have the idea that Frank protected his identity and while they probably visited each other a few times just to make sure the other was still alive, this is the first time he's really brought into the fold as Frank's old associate (desperate times...) and the first time he gets a full dose of Painkiller.  
> And I have no idea what S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing in the meantime here, either. It's not really a plotty piece. I just wanted to get in that pressing feeling of "there's only so many of us and we must save the world right now!" present in the superhero genre, and contrast it with the paradoxical mundaneness that Micro seems to possess.  
> (The two years mentioned are probably not an exact count.)


	36. Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two friends in the van and Springsteen on the music player (whatever form this particular device takes).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes to Coneycat, who independently of me also got the idea that Steve would like Springsteen.

**35\. Melody**

  
It was one of those times when it was just the two of them, Frank’s van and Springsteen on the radio. (Steve kept referring to it as the radio in his mind, even though by now it took him just a split moment to identify the device properly.) Well, that and Steve’s shield and Frank’s guns. Their lives were infinitely paradoxical like that.

“Mom used to sing this,” Steve said, trying to remember her voice and the way she had sung the song over the sound of Springsteen’s admittedly good version.

“And you still ended up trying hard to enlist,” Frank shook his head. “How did that happen? _Foreign wars, I do proclaim..._ ”

It still had not ceased to amaze Steve how close Frank’s voice was whenever he joined into the songs. He did not sing often, not even in the shower (to which Steve did have a tendency himself).

“Well, for one thing, it was for a whole different reason,” Steve smirked.

Having the album on shuffle led to an unexpected announcement of a similar sort from Frank: “We used to sing this with my platoon.”

“What’s Erie Canal got to do with a platoon of Marines?”

“At least you know enough not to ask ‘how could you have sung this when it wasn’t even recorded yet’,” Frank retorted. “Peter did.”

Steve pushed down on the pang of jealousy creeping in; Frank and Peter had gotten close recently and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Peter needed a male presence in his life, and Frank was older than Steve and they had actually known each other longer, simple as that.

Well, things were of course not quite as simple as that, but that did not matter.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Nothing except it being a good rhythm for working and marching,” Frank shrugged. “It was a bit of ‘in your face’ to our drill sergeants, originally. I will admit to having started it, but I will not admit to perpetuating it.”

“Sometimes, I forget you didn’t start out as Captain,” Steve said.

“Sometimes, I forget you didn’t start out as Captain, yourself,” Frank retorted.

And maybe the fact that neither of them had was precisely why times like this could happen. An Irish kid from Brooklyn, a Sicilian boy from Queens projects. They’d both made it elsewhere; but both of them be damned if they ever forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 w.
> 
> The songs in question are from The Seeger Sessions; “Mrs McGrath”, an anti-war Irish ballad, and “Erie Canal”, which is about hauling boatloads with a mule and really doesn’t have anything to do with Marines, but contains the words “you’ll always know your neighbor and you’ll always know your pal” which I take they’d come to relate to.
> 
> Military ranks and organisation are a lot of trouble to reconcile with canon. Especially because, it seems, canon itself doesn’t bother to be consistent. Anyway, I settled on them both starting out as enlisted and continuing to commissioned officer. In Steve’s case, there was probably a lot of handwaving involved by the Army itself, due to the unusual circumstances. In Frank’s case, my headcanon is that someone convinced him he was clever enough to attend the Naval Academy, so he already entered the war – whichever war it was – as a CO, presumably Second Lieutenant; and ended up working with some of the same people he had been with at the boot camp.


	37. Panic Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan has a problem.

**37\. Panic Switch**

 

“Do you know a good sewing machine service?” Joan asked all of a sudden.

Frank handed her the cup she wanted for breakfast and asked:

“What made you think I would?”

“Honestly, no idea,” Joan said. “Probably just because you tend to know people, or people who know people, and... okay, I’ve got this great old machine that’s started acting up recently, and I have no idea what to do.” Panic started creeping into her voice. She really liked that machine. Frank could get behind that, but he knew next to nothing about sewing machines.

“If everything fails, read the instructions,” he offered.

“I don’t have them.”

“E-bay?”

“You won’t believe me, but I’ve honest to goodness found it at the curb.”

“Actually, I believe you.”

He considered it properly. The answer was easier than he’d thought.

“Well, you’re right, I know people who know people,” he said. “Ask Janet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150 w.
> 
> Because sewing machines acting up are a panic switch if there ever was one. Originally, I wrote a little piece with Janet becoming frustrated with one, but it felt out of character for her. Joan used one in the 2004 film for a simple task. It looked like an old or industrial model (or both), definitely not your run-of-the-mill modern home-sewing piece, so it’s much more likely that she got it second-hand and doesn’t know so much about it. Yes, I do notice characters sewing.


	38. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are giant bugs and traditional weapons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Forgot this one and now it's even more out of order. Not that it really matters.

**36\. Purple**

 

Frank swore, a string of words presumably not suited for the ears of minors; but minors had always known more than was suited for them. And the bow and arrows in the hands of that little streak of purple---

Dodging mysterious giant bugs with a bow and arrows was not exactly suited for minors, either.

“Who do you think you are?” he asked the girl as he hacked at one of the bugs with his khukri knife; it had been a surprise attack and he had long run out of ammo.

“Hawkeye,” she said and casually shot another of the bugs into one of its multifaceted eyes.

“I believe that one’s taken,” Frank informed her. Although if anyone was to steal the name from Clint Barton, she might be a good candidate, with that kind of aim. She’d already taken out four bugs, always in the eye.

“Lady Hawkeye!” Spiderman suggested cheerfully from his elevated position on the wall and enveloped one of the bugs in his webs.

The purple girl snorted. Frank thought he could see where she was coming from.

“Any ideas for alternate names for archers?” he asked the remaining members of his team through the comm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.
> 
> The Young Avengers make their AU appearance.
> 
> The giant bugs were inspired by Morena_Evensong’s excellent story “To Hug a Hulk”. http://archiveofourown.org/works/2532482
> 
> The khukri knife is another one-off thing lifted from the comics. Frank is given one by a Gurkha soldier in one issue of the War Journal. It’s made a bit of a deal of there as something the Nepali cherishes, and then apparently promptly forgotten forever. Meh. You ungrateful git, Punisher, you.


	39. Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki takes a bow.

**67\. Bow**

 

It was a strange custom, bowing at the end of a performance.

It made perfect sense if you thought of it as bowing to a rich and noble benefactor of a theatre company. But that wasn’t the case most of the time these days on Midgard, and even if it were: in America, people were not in the habit of bowing.

People who were not actors, that is. It was a performance in itself: performance of gratitude and humility.

And somewhere along the way, Loki was swept in, swayed by the applause and the overwhelming relief of having _done_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.


	40. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank’s in Prague and has the concept of “Holy Ground” explained to him. Sort of.

**38\. Sanctuary**

 

It was a short and succinct message; it usually was when Adam texted. Their bantering was limited to personal contact, e-mails and the CZ forum.

_Salvatorska, church, meet me there._

“Salvatorska” had to mean Salvátorská street, which a quick look at a map in the phone confirmed was just a short way away from the Old Town Square.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Adam?” Natasha asked, nibbling appreciatively at her trdelník and looking at him through black sunglasses, the very epitome of a young tourist on a European joyride. A quick nod from him was all she needed, though, unlike the usual behaviour of her chatty tourist persona.

He found the church easily; it’s impossible to overlook a large baroque structure in a small side street.

Adam was, surprisingly, not waiting in a pew or hiding behind a column, but helping another person with some books right at the entrance.

“Hi,” he said. “Kněžna, this is Frank. Frank, this is Ludmila.”

She smiled at him – she was a remarkably attractive woman, in a remarkably ordinary way – and said “Hello, nice to meet you finally.” The “finally” part was disconcerting.

“And here I thought you were hiding on Holy Ground,” Frank murmured to Adam after he returned her greetings politely.

“I am,” Adam replied. “It helps to be friends with the minister’s family, though. It gives you the perfect cover.”

After that explanation, Frank wondered why he should be so surprised. It would be perfectly _Methos_ to simply materialise at their door and say something like “Hi, I could use sanctuary right now, any songbooks you need to sort through?”

“The ‘Holy Ground’ part is, of course, somewhat murky, but I’m not going to advertise that to them when they come looking,” Adam added not-really-helpfully, with an amused grin.

“Really,” Frank said sarcastically, and then took a proper look at the church. It was not as full of paintings and statues as the churches Natasha had dragged him through – it was, in fact, almost minimalist in comparison – but the _not secular_ feeling to the space was still very obvious.

“Oh, you know, there used to be a yard, then they built a church here, then they turned the church into a mint... the usual lot.”

“What?”

“The concept of ‘Holy Ground’ has some severe shortcomings when you live long enough. But as I said, I’m not in the habit of advertising them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 w.
> 
> More Highlanderish than usual. Finally. Consequently, it became one of the longish pieces. I still have not explained what links the two of them. That will probably have to wait for the background piece.
> 
> Trdelník is this pastry thing sold at markets and in touristy places throughout the Czech Republic, under the pretence that it’s an old Czech delicacy. It’s only become prominent in the last decade or so, though.
> 
> That church exists, with the history; it’s a Protestant church, which often means complicated history like that in the Czech lands. The minister’s family are my own characters. “Kněžna”, as a nickname, refers to kněžna Ludmila – Princess Ludmila, i.e. Saint Ludmila, one of the Czech patron saints (not that she’d bother saying all that, being Protestant). Don’t read anything Highlander-y into it, it’s just a nickname of association.
> 
> Of course, given the open nature of that friendship, there is definitely more to it than just pragmatism; but Methos can be very openly pragmatic with his friends.


	41. Illuminate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mission, Frank stays in the Czech Republic.

**18\. Illuminate**

 

His second stay in the Czech Republic (that one night in Prague did not count) was an illuminating experience for Frank, just like the first had been.

The reason Adam had so readily accepted him into his family circles was probably the fact that he himself had previously been readily accepted. Unlike Adam, Ondra did not even have the excuse of ancient history on his side. Just a willingness to help out a man without an identity and give him an anchor in a new country.

Adam had taken that anchor and dragged it over to Frank; or the other way round. “Frank, this is my brother, Ondra. Ondra, this is Frank, who’s our kinsman in some complicated way. Be nice to him.”

And there was more. There was Ondra’s German wife, Karin. Frank led a halting conversation with her, in his broken German, and somehow they still came across family history and how it was inextricably linked to the history of Europe. There had been a time when they could not have married. Karin expressed her gratitude for the fact that those times were long over and Ondra was here.

“Es ist eine Familie der Überlebenden, diese – deine Familie,” she said.

It struck Frank as a very apt description of what they were, the three of them. Three survivors banded together, against all expectations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 225 w.
> 
> “It is a family of survivors, this – your family.” Where “your” is the familiar form, to indicate how they’ve accepted Frank already.  
> It's three different sorts of survivors, obviously. Which is part of the "against all expectations". I just realised I'd better make clear that I am _not_ intentionally drawing a parallel between Methos' brand of surviving and that of Holocaust survivors and their families. What I'm doing is intentionally putting these characters together to benefit from each other's experience.
> 
> Ondra was formed in my head before I encountered Methos. And then I was struck by how similar Peter Wingfield was to how I imagined Ondra to look – not entirely identical, but close enough for them to be brothers, for example. So when I started playing with Methos, that became part of his later story. And then it somehow began to make sense to drag Frank into the mix.


	42. Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Frank banter.

**

39\. Spell 

**

**_CZConvert_ **

_19 hours ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Just like DutyCall, I’ve got a mat in the car, because it all depends on where I was using them and for how long. At home I’ve got a worktable just for the guns, with all the tools if I do a custom job and of course all the cleaning tools, oil etc. It helps to have a place set out for it because you don’t have to search for everything, clean stuff out of your way... and I have a roommate so it’s better to make clear what goes where so I don’t get his paint in my guns or something.

 

**_AverageJoe405_ **

_18 hours ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

I clean my gun on the floor. Knees protest sometimes but it’s safer. I have this folding table in my place. Well i forget about that, lean over it and hit that exact spot I shouldn’t and land my face smack on the gun (it was taken down at the moment, no worries there). I’ve still got stitches. I figure if Im working on the floor, I can’t fall any further down? Right?

**_CZConvert_ **

_18 hours ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Good reasoning.

**_AverageJoe405_ **

_18 hours ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Haha banana banana faultless

**_AverageJoe405_ **

_25 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

I hate spellcheckers. Why on earth did it write banana? I just wanted to write hahahahahaha.

**_CZConvert_ **

_23 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

All this time I’m wondering just how manic you are for gun safety and all this time it’s your spellchecker.

**_Charlie365_ **

_20 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Spellcheckers are a pain in the a$$. It could be fun to use though. *sarcastic laughter* = banana banana

**_Stormness_ **

_12 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Look who’s talking about maniacs and gun safety.

**_CZConvert_ **

_10 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Banana banana

**_AverageJoe405_ **

_9 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Do I want to know?

**_Stormness_ **

_8 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

What happens in the family stays in the family.

**_DutyCall, Moderator_ **

_3 minutes ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Stormness, CZConvert, out!

**_CZConvert_ **

_1 minute ago_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Guns or swords?

**_Stormness_ **

_just now_

_Re: Where do you most often clean your guns?_

Paper rock scissors?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 w. Phew! It’s hard to get a specific count with all the formatting and style. Some of the wordcount is a bit fiddly here with AverageJoe’s questionable spelling.
> 
> English homonyms are fun. I was wracking my head about ways to work in a spell with Loki cut off from magic, without introducing a major magical foe / character or repeating things already said about Loki’s situation... And then a funny spellcheck autocorrect happened in one of my Facebook groups. Used with permission.
> 
> I mentioned their banter two pieces ago, so I wanted to show what it was like.
> 
> The hardest part, though, was coming up with usernames for a predominantly US-based gun forum. Not Frank’s and Adam’s, that was fairly easy, because I have a good reason behind Adam’s, and Frank, I figured, would not bother with a pretentious username and just use the first thing that came to mind. Stormness is Adam. Frank is CZconvert (and gave Adam permission to laugh when he signed up for the forum).
> 
> Their banter tends to divert threads very much off topic, which is why the moderator is shoving them out. And yes, usually it’s Stormness who starts it, but CZconvert runs with it every time.


	43. Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something should be done about the Young Avengers.

**40\. Rejection**  


The Young Avengers, as the media called them and as they called themselves, posed a problem.

Steve could not possibly let them run around risking their lives without their legal guardians’ consent. Captain Marvel was, rightfully, very emphatic about that. Although Steve, from his own experience, knew that teenagers could tend for themselves better than contemporary Western society thought, if they were forced to by circumstances, he could hardly ignore the law and essentially allow them to put their lives on the line under his supervision without their parents’ knowledge. And willingly entering into battle conditions was not comparable to being forced by circumstances.

Spiderman said that he had done the same thing and turned out, arguably, all right; it was a valid point, but it was really an answer to a different question.

Presenting the problem to the Young Avengers made it clear to anyone who may not have thought of it yet just how impossible it all was. Their parents would not give their consent, with good reason. But the kids did not want him to tell on them (with good reason).

“And so I tell you to stop now, you won’t listen and I will have to tell your parents,” he pointed out to their two leaders, Patriot and Hawkeye (something should be done about that; but strangely enough, neither Clint nor the girl were inclined to change anything).

The solution came from unexpected quarters.

“Don’t reject them. And don’t tell on them,” Painkiller said.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting that I should let them continue as if there was no problem,” Steve said.

“No. Of course not. But they’re clearly willing to dedicate their time and talents to something worthwhile, so rejecting them would be foolish. Remember Sam?”

Steve, thankfully, stopped the oncoming snort in time. Of course I remember Sam, he’s our neighbour, Steve would say to Frank; what Captain America said to Painkiller was:

“You mean they should help _him_ out?”

“It could be the perfect solution, if they agreed. It’s something their parents would give consent to. We could keep an eye on them, maybe even teach them so that later, if they’re still willing, they actually have the experience and knowledge to do what they do now.”

“Boot camp, eh?” Captain Marvel said, smiling.

“More like AIT, I imagine,” Frank replied and Steve could swear he was actually grinning underneath his shemagh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 400 w.
> 
> AIT = Advanced Individual Training. Thank you, Wikipedia. In my first Young Avengers piece here, I had Frank considerably impressed by Kate Bishop’s skill, so I have carried that on to here: he already considers them skilled enough. Just not experienced enough to always make the right decisions under pressure.
> 
> Another tidbit from Frank’s biography: before his family was killed, he worked as a training instructor for the Marines. In the comics, he simply went AWOL. In this AU, he less conspicuously left the service for personal reasons. This version of Frank is better at long-term planning, I guess, which would also show here.
> 
> Shemagh: also known as keffiyeh. You know, that Middle Eastern headscarf. All black shemaghs are not very common, but I did manage to google some. I’ve chosen this manner of disguise for Frank because – I’ve tried this with a similarly sized scarf of mine, the things I do for fanfiction – if you tie it around your head in the usual military manner (tutorials available online), you can then simply pull it down and it becomes an inconspicuous shawl around your neck. Whereas carrying a balaclava around in your pockets could always potentially lead to embarrassing accidents.


	44. Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawkeye walks in on a sword fight.

**41\. Sword**

 

Hawkeye was long used to walking in on weird things in the gym. What he walked in on that day was not even particularly weird, all things considered; but it was definitely unexpected.

There was Frank and Frank’s-relative-in-Prague (Adam, Clint remembered), and there were swords. Hawkeye did not know much about swords, but he knew enough to be aware that broadswords were not something used regularly these days. Frank sparring Adam with what looked like an oriental sabre added only little to the oddity.

Frank lunged with his sword, Adam deftly slipped away and Clint backed out again.

This would be much better watched from the heights.

Up in the gallery, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he was greeted by a polite “Hello,” in Agent Coulson’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 130 w.
> 
> And Frank’s relative in Prague makes another appearance.  
> I’m sorry for still leaving their relation unclear. There is a story. Hopefully one day it will be public. Just to be clear on one thing, Frank’s not an Immortal. Phil is.  
> The US Marines traditionally carry a Mameluke sword, which has its origins somewhere in the Middle East. Those swords are just ceremonial, but it would make sense for Methos to pick something Frank would be at least superficially familiar with. I would not discount the possibility that this particular piece used to be the Saracen’s blade of choice...


	45. Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-battle chat

**47\. Challenge**

 

“That was quite impressive,” Phil said to Frank. “For someone who has not really used a sword before, you take to it very well.”

Frank could point out that he’d already used long bladed weapons before and the fact that he preferred not to use them did not mean he could not. Adam could point out the same thing about him. Or that it was not the first time they had had a go at it together.

But that would no doubt make Hawkeye curious about things they preferred not to talk about casually. So they let that be for now.

“Do you fit a sword in there?” Frank asked instead, indicating Phil’s suit.

“No,” Phil said.

“So how do you avoid challenges?”

“With red tape,” Phil smiled beatifically. Frank and Adam both snorted.

“And guns,” Phil added.

“You sound like someone trained by Adam,” Frank said.

“Heh. I wish,” Adam chuckled and opened the bottle of water that had been standing on the bench.

“Trained by Fury,” Phil said, with a degree of pride.

“I have my suspicions,” Frank sat down on the bench next to Adam and snatched the bottle from his hand. “About Fury. And you, Old Man. There are some striking similarities in the ways you deal with things.”

“Heh. You wish,” Adam replied. “Besides, Fury still hasn’t learnt to do nothing, so even if he were my pupil, he would be a bad one. – That’s my water, Young Man. Respect your elders.”

“I’ll start respecting my elders when they stop beating me in fights,” Frank retorted.

“Keep dreaming, kid,” Adam said and leant back against the wall.

“And true to his word, Adam does nothing,” Phil remarked as Frank drank deeply from the bottle.

“Waste of energy,” Adam said languidly. “He’ll give it back eventually.”

“I recall a man stepping in in Sicily,” Frank said. “Very emphatically _not_ doing nothing.”

“And that most certainly wasn’t a waste of energy, so my argument stands.” Adam smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 330 w.


	46. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve remembers things differently.

**50\. Intermission**

 

“There used to be intermissions,” Steve said.

He was never petulant about this, only sometimes irritated, but Tony still interpreted his words more harshly than they were meant.

Sometimes, Frank suspected, Steve said such things just to see what kind of reaction he would get from Tony. Stark rarely disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 w.


	47. Overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and music he missed out on

**51\. Overrated**

 

Contrary to popular belief, the reason Steve did not listen to a huge portion of modern music wasn’t because he could not stand the music, but because he could not stand the lyrics.

Sure, modern beats had taken some getting used to and he still could not listen to the electronic music Janet was fond of for very long. But his real problem had been that so many of the words had not made sense. And when they had started to make sense, many had turned out to be boring. Or, in the worse cases, downright offensive.

It probably had something to do with the USO tour, Steve thought, his inability to ever tune out the words again. It was as if he had done enough of that for a lifetime, his filter was filled and everything stayed in now.

“So much of The Beatles is so overrated,” he sighed. “Why do people keep expecting me to like them?”

“I think if, back then, they knew they’d end up lumped together with the Andrews Sisters as ‘oldies’, they would have been offended,” Natasha grinned. “Here, have some Misztrál.”

The transfer to his phone took quite long; it was several albums.

He did not understand a word, but the music was exquisite – and completely acoustic, which was highly unusual for the twenty-first century.

“Where do you find these bands?” Steve asked her later.

“This one? Budapest,” she replied. “We needed a cover and a concert was a good place to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 250 w.
> 
> Unashamedly promoting one of my favourite bands. Check them out, they have [a website](http://www.misztral.hu/) and [a YouTube channel](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxDD-68JpWFIyWwg7YP5pFw) and everything. And they usually use poems for their lyrics, so even if Steve could understand, he would not be bored.  
> I have a headcanon for Natasha being the knowledgeable person when it comes to music from various countries. It was originally part of one of these pieces, but got scrapped with its respective piece when I found it too wordy and pointless. Maybe later.  
> No offence to The Beatles in general – I like Abbey Road –, but so many of their early songs really are incredibly simplistic.


	48. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah Altman chats with a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to introduce this prompt / plot thread several pieces back already, but I just could not find an angle that would work in this format. It kept expanding under my hands.

**42\. Love**

 

“... and Frank would not, I’m sure.”

“Sarah, you’re in love!” Barbara exclaimed as it dawned on her.

“What?” Sarah sputtered.

“Last time I heard about Frank, he was just a guy helping out in the same youth centre your son is helping out in,” Barbara pointed out. “And now you’re using him as a paragon of male virtue! Spill, girlfriend, spill!”

“There’s nothing much to spill,” Sarah protested. “He just brought Teddy home a few times, and we... talked.”

“You... talked!” Barbara sing-songed joyously.

“Knock it off!” Sarah laughed. “You sound like one of Teddy’s friends.”

“Must be the drink talking,” Barbara grinned. “You should invite him out for a drink, now that I mention it.”

“Frank doesn’t drink,” Sarah replied.

She’s got it _bad_ , Barbara thought. Despite enjoying a drink herself at the moment, Sarah had said it like abstinence was a most desirable trait.

But then, she’d always criticised the lack of principles in men who had shown interest in her. If Frank did not turn out to be a possessive, demanding monster (always a possible danger in such men with principles, Barbara thought), he could be just the thing for her. High time she found someone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 w.
> 
> Sarah is Sarah Altman, Teddy's mother (or, technically, not his real mother). Barbara is a friend of hers I felt compelled to give her after reading some other Sarah Altman-centric stories. She would need someone to learn how to be human from.


	49. Fire Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers meet the X-Men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardly for the first time in this universe, though.
> 
> It's getting more and more chronologically out of whack. So far, so good, but a lot of the more recently posted pieces could probably be re-arranged a little...

**46\. Fire Ball**

 

Frank could think all he wanted about the X-Men placing kids in battle: the Young Avengers had done the same thing; Peter had done the same thing. They were in a transition period of emerging superpowers, Bruce said, and you often had to call on drastic measures in such times. Sometimes, people had no other choice. Mutants had no other choice.

But at least they would not be alone; the Avengers made sure of that whenever they could.

“There really _is_ fire!” the black-haired girl cried excitedly, pointing at his gun.

The fireball was definitely not a standard CZ feature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> Mutant powers are fun, from a reader point of view. I think – I may be wrong – that it was the creation of mutants that allowed the exploration of superpowers that are not always useful in combat. This one happens to be, admittedly.


	50. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki contemplates his skin tone.

**59\. Blue**

 

There were two more blue people in the mansion. Maybe that should have made him feel easier about the subject of his own occasional skin-tone, but the fact that they were both furry and warm had very soon stopped him from exploring that angle. And they were _always_ blue. (Holographic projectors did not count.)

Then there was Iceman, and maybe that could have helped him, but it had not, either.

Of course, learning to use his inherent biological powers was part of his curriculum – and no doubt one of the reasons why Thor had placed him in this particular Midgardian school. Few of his classmates knew that he actually wasn’t a mutant like them. (Few of his classmates knew that his brother wasn’t _just_ Donald Blake, student of medicine.)

He was no longer sure what he actually was. He had, once upon a time, been absolutely certain that he was an Áss. Then he had become sure, bitterly but dead sure, that he was a Frost Giant. But Frost Giants, practically as a rule, did not turn all pink and warm when they chose to, let alone go on being pink and warm after their access to magic had been barred. He had, for a while, thought that it was just his magic; but it could not be now, could it?

Or was there some sort of inherent, deeper magic in whatever he was?

He realised that despite everything he’d learned of his true heritage, he’d never met his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 250 w.
> 
> Áss: the singular of Aesir. It not being used in fandom (or maybe even canon) is one of my linguistic pet peeves, similarly to people writing Tolkien-related fanfiction applying “Eldar” or “Noldor” to a single person. Although in this particular case, I think I can see where that unwillingness to use it comes from. Writing that sentence, I got reminded of Dogberry in _Much Ado About Nothing_ (which I've watched recently in the Kenneth Branagh version), and I think now I will have to do something about that in this universe. :D
> 
> The consensus seems to be that Loki has inherent shapeshifting abilities that made him change when Odin picked him up? But I honestly don’t know where those come from; is there any canon explanation for that?


	51. Merriment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve considers how much Frank has changed.

**57\. Merriment**

Frank had mellowed over time. All the Avengers knew that, but most of the Avengers were not fully aware of the extent. Steve, who had spent some time with him before he had become Painkiller, who lived with him now, knew just how much Frank had changed.

He had likes and dislikes now.

Not calculated decisions on what he would and would not allow himself as he did with the no alcohol rule; _likes_ and _dislikes_.

(Steve also knew of the loopholes in the no alcohol rule.)

The first hint of the change had been during Frank’s solitary, when he had started asking, through the guards, for more books by Lewis and Chesterton, and could they maybe find something by Čapek? And for Christ’s sake, don’t send him any more Philip K. Dick. (The last remark had been with regards to an addition by Tony and had led to a major disturbance in the Force in the lab area, until Bruce managed to impart to Tony the notion that Dick was hardly a reassuring and stabilising choice for someone in Frank’s situation. Bruce probably knew too well.)

It had developed further as they’d started sharing living space and daily chores. Like when Frank had told Steve that yes, he did like his mother’s recipe for pancakes, but eight days in a row was too much even for him. Steve had acted indignant, but he’d known, from talks he had led with Doctor Goodman, that this was a shift in a good direction: Frank of a few months earlier would have gone on eating the pancakes without a word of protest.

Then there was the Shadow. Frank and Natasha could discuss its technical parameters all they wanted; it really boiled down to a subtle emotional attachment that originated in the fact that it had been Adam who’d recommended the gun to Frank.

Movie nights: Frank had, one day, joined with Carol and Janet in booing down Clint’s suggestion of MASH: The Movie and suggesting some episodes of the series instead. Who’d have thought? (Certainly not Steve, because he had no idea what the differences were.)

Music: All the blues singers Steve loved, too. Springsteen. Drawing the line in the murky waters between Hard Rock and Metal that Steve was hopelessly lost in (he still wasn’t convinced there was a line to draw there, but Frank had Opinions).

It was gradual, and perceptible more in the relaxed moments, when Frank all of a sudden sang with the radio when Springsteen was on, or rolled his eyes at the gaming parties at the tower (he never played himself, but often made sure the gamers would not forget to eat and drink). It had started being obvious in the brotherly care he took for Peter and the half exasperated, half fond arguments he had with Tony – they always clashed, but always made up. It was clear in the surreptitious, conspiratorial grins he threw the Young Avengers’ way and the high-fives he gave the kids at the youth centre.

And now here he was, standing in the middle of the basketball field with a rabble of giggling kids surrounding him, holding up a plate with the last thin slice of the cassata cake high above his head, in safekeeping from their greedy appetite, laughing.

“Catch me if you can!” he cried out suddenly, did a feint and escaped, with skills honed over years of being a Marine, a vigilante and an Avenger.

“And who catches you gets the cake?” one of the kids shouted excitedly as they ran after him.

“No!” Frank retorted, still laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 600 w.
> 
> Steve's mother's recipe for pancakes was inspired by / taken directly from ["Condiments"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4229829), a remix / missing scene Transposable_Element wrote for my story "The Morning After".
> 
> Cassata, I’ve found, is a Sicilian cake soaked in liquor and covered in marzipan. I’ve never had it, but it looks and sounds exactly like the kind of incredibly indulgent confection Frank would never allow himself if he did not have fond childhood memories of it and did not allow those memories to prevail. It’s also a loophole for alcohol, if that wasn’t clear.
> 
> I harbour a suspicion that the kids proceeded to tickle him and Steve discovered one more thing about Frank the other Avengers did not know. That is, the exact breadth and depth of his vocabulary of Sicilian swearwords, of course. ;-)


	52. Sneeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is ill and Steve applies knowledge from his pre-serum days.

**48\. Sneeze**

 

Sam was convinced Frank had caught the flu at the youth centre; Frank stubbornly maintained it must have been at work.

Wherever it had been did not matter all that much. Frank was being ridiculous.

“I can’t just lie here doing nothing,” he managed to say stubbornly before he sneezed again.

“You’ve got a raging fever,” Steve said. “And you keep sneezing on everything.”

“I can’t be ill!”

“That’s clearly incorrect, because you are,” Steve retorted. “Now drink your tea.”

“Seriously, all this fussing...”

“I may not be Thor, but I’ve had my own experience with illnesses. Trust me. It helps,” Steve told him firmly. “Or are you too chicken to do something that could help and speed up your recovery and send you right back to duty, and would rather continue wallowing in your misery?”

Frank glared at him darkly and drank the tea-and-horseradish concoction in one long gulp.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150 w.
> 
> Steve knows him too well.  
> If Bucky were around, though, he’d probably tell Steve something along the lines of “kettle – pot – black.”


	53. Potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's really not good at being ill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a little "I'm still alive" addition, before I sort out all the plots. Written a couple of weeks ago, feeling particularly poignant now because I also have some sort of clingy cold or flu right now. :P

**63\. Potion**

 

“Look, I have a quick remedy for that,” Adam said, after Frank’s tenth failed attempt at coughing discreetly. From somewhere in his cupboards, he pulled out a bottle of a clear liquid that did not look like it was water, although it did look more or less like water.

“No vodka!” Frank objected.

“It’s not vodka, it’s slivovice,” Adam corrected.

“No alcohol, and definitely not hard liquor!”

He was very adamant. This was far too important to him to give in.

“Oh well,” Adam shrugged, “it was worth a shot.”

And he grinned unrepentantly in the focus of Frank’s glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 w.
> 
> Look! I managed a true drabble again!


End file.
